


Autumn, innit.

by orphan_account



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Autumn, innit.

It’s still dark when he wakes up. It’s dark and quiet. That’s what he likes most about living in the middle of nowhere; it’s always so quiet when he opens his eyes in the morning, as though he could actually still be asleep, aside from the sounds of the birds fluttering overhead and the first bus pulling up at the top of the village.

He lays there for a while, breathing in and out steadily, feeling the rest of his body come to life, the taste in his mouth making him groan slightly. He grimaces when he glances sideways at the digital clock on his bedside table reading 6am.

Eventually he sighs and peels the warm duvet away from his body, wincing at the stiffness of his limbs as he pulls himself up sideways into a sitting position, legs over the side of the mattress. He reaches blindly and numbly for his baccy tin, rolling himself a cig through muscle memory and beginning to shiver slightly. The heating hasn’t come on yet and the end-of-september chill has started to breathe into the building with the onslaught of the early morning.

He manages, on his second try, to stand up, padding over to his window and cracking it open, sitting up on the ledge. He shivers as the cold air washes into the room and raises the hairs on his arms. He lights up and leans out, dragging the ashtray closer, watching his breath where he can see it escaping his lips.

The moon is still sort of there behind the clouds and he squints up at it for a moment as he tokes on his cig and swallows to wet his dry throat.

When he’s done, he closes the window and rushes to get dressed in his jeans and t-shirt with a hoodie and a jacket, tugging his bobble hat over his ears and making sure he has his baccy, phone, and keys.

He manages to get down the stairs without waking anyone up, and locks the door again, walking to his car parked around the front, rubbing his hands together when he climbs in, closing the door behind him quickly and turning the heater on. He turns on the radio and pulls out onto the main road, the sky still a dark, inky blue.

Adam isn’t there when he parks outside the porta cabins, and it doesn’t surprise him; he’s a grafter, but he's never been one for the ass crack of dawn, and Aaron isn’t either really, there’s just something about autumn that has him restless to be out, breathing in the sharp, crisp air and feeling the leaves crunching under his feet.

He grins as scrappy enthusiastically greets him when he unlocks the doors, rubbing her face and belly as she slobbers all over his hand. He wipes it with dispensable tissue paper and turns the lights on, kicking the portable radiator to life and dragging it up near his desk where he sits. Pulling out the documents he has to get signed before he starts with the manual shit, he gets going.

When the sun starts creeping up, he files it all and sends a couple of business emails, before making his first coffee of the day; black, two sugars, steaming hot. He also pours some water into a bowl for scrappy and sits on the steps having another cig, watching the day start.

The heaviness is still there.

He feels it in his gut and in his bones. It’s a constant thing now, and he’s pretty much used to it. But he thinks this helps. Having a job, some quiet, a dog, something that keeps him busy and something about autumn. Something that buzzes in his chest. It feels like freshness, like life, like a promise. And one he can rely on this time.

* * *

Robert groans as his alarm sounds and he rolls over, flinging his arm out, his hand smashing down on the off button, face smushed against the pillow, eyes half-lidded and vacant. He really fucking hates these 6am starts. They hurt his head. His poor, meant-for-more-than-shovelling-horse-shit head.

And it’s cold. He hates the cold. It’s annoying and achy and awkward. There’s an irony in there but he can’t be bothered to grasp it as he groans again and revels in the last few seconds of warmth. Then he throws the blanket off his body, pouting at the prospect of having to pull on overalls and Hunters for the day.

He styles his hair in the mirror even though he knows it’s just going to get all revolting and matted before lunchtime, and makes sure he has his keys and phone before he leaves the house. He pauses near the brick wall and watches Aaron moving quickly where his car is parked up the road, shivering and tiptoeing through the chill.

Robert squints through the dark and watches the inside car lights come on as Aaron blows into his hands and rubs them together, turning the radio on and starting the engine, the wipers breaking the frost on the windshield.

Robert sighs heavily and swallows the emotion building in his throat, forcing himself to blink away and get into his own car, downgraded to a fucking Skoda Octavia 1.2 hatchback. _He drives a Skoda_. Honestly. This is his punishment. This is his own brand of hell.

Moira and the farm boys – jesus they should start a bloody boyband – are already awake and sitting around the kitchen table when he gets there. Andy blanks him, but Moira nods at him and Ross smirks, waggling his eyebrows. Robert rolls his eyes and accepts the coffee she offers him; black, no sugar, seeing as the café isn’t open this early and he can’t afford to keep buying Americanos every morning.

After about ten minutes, she hoards them all, whining and huffing about cold and sleep, through the door towards the farm and stables. Ross slaps Robert’s ass into action as they get going with their daily duties.

Andy and Ross are on the tractors today, Pete and Cain on general maintenance, and Robert on hygiene because no one ever wants to spend more than ten minutes working with him. He wants to be offended, but it’s nothing he hasn’t brought on himself.

He unenthusiastically grabs his shovel and heads for the barns, ignoring the horrible jolt he gets every time he goes near one, most likely some sort of ptsd symptom he's too scared to address right now. He’s briefly grateful that thanks to the cold, he can’t actually feel his limbs, and that somehow makes the back ache he will no doubt develop within the hour, more bearable.

Still, he really rather enjoys it. He won’t admit that to anyone out loud of course, and he’s being paid a seriously lower wage than what he was up at Home Farm, for twice the manual labour, but he _does_ enjoy it.

He likes the sweat, the purpose. It – yeah, okay, it feels like he’s home again. _Really_ home. For the first time since he’s been back here. He’s covered in bruises and his arms feel shredded for days after he’s put to more heavy duty tasks, but there’s something about it that puts a quiet smile on his face. A quiet smile he hasn’t felt there since… well, since he was last with Aaron.

* * *

“You’re mental,” Belle remarks as she sips at the hot tea he’s made her, leaning against the outside of the porta cabins, fingers wrapped around the mug, trying to lynch the warmth from it.

“Leave it out. You can’t talk.”

“Neither can you. Six in the morning. I’m still dreaming about Ian Somerhalder at that time, not even thinking about getting up. And you’re up here slaving about. Bloody mental."

He rolls his eyes, lifting his head out from under the car he’s taking apart and poking his tongue out at her.

“Mature, real mature.”

“Why you hanging about up here? Shouldn’t you be over at the factory annoying your new boyfriend or something?” Aaron asks as he has to put some actual strength into getting part of the cam belt out.

“That’s on hold, Rishi and Jai are having money troubles. Didn’t ask. Reckon Jai’s having some sort of breakdown though. Not like mine. But he definitely looks a bit worse for wear – careful!”

Metal pinches his finger and he hisses, letting out a string of swear words, ringing his hand as though it will get rid of the offending pain.

"Where’s Adam today?”

“He’s on a delivery, bigger load, should pay the rent and more.”

“Ideal! You guys are doing well.”

“Yeah, it’d be a lot fuckin easier if it wasn’t built on _his_ money and if we didn’t have to give him a quarter cut every month.”

“Ah, the famous ‘his’. You should say his name; fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.”

“Did you just quote Harry Potter to give me advice about my ex?”

“Harry Potter is like the bible. Besides, you have to be able to say his name, otherwise you’re just… ignoring it instead of dealing with it.”

“S’aight, I make more than Robert now anyways, reckon that’s penance enough, innit?”

He smirks at her as he comes away for a moment, wiping his hands with a dirty rag cloth and picking up his half drank coffee from beside her feet

“It’s definitely an issue of karma, y’know, what goes around comes around, all that stuff. He’s definitely got his comeuppance.”

“He drives a Skoda. I get a kick out of it every time I see it. Nice cars, but he’ll hate it.”

“How do you know he won’t like it?”

“I – don’t look at me like that, it aint my fault I know him well. He’s a spoilt little bastard, and a Skoda is 100% a downgrade from a fuckin Chrysler.”

“I always hate that. All that knowledge about a person’s likes and dislikes. Where are you meant to put it all when everything goes to shit?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out. Anyway, I meant to ask, you going to college soon?” Aaron huffs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand

“Nah, reckon I’ll give this Granny Clegg thing a go first, see where it ends up,” she grins, placing her empty mug on the steps and jumping up. She tugs her scarf tighter around her neck and presses a quick peck to Aaron’s cheek before walking off backward.

"You should talk to him, get some closure,”she calls as she moves further away, the smile still on her lips

He flips her the bird and she laughs, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll text you later,” she tells him, before finally turning around, catching a lift with a very grumpy and very cold Erik as she moves back down the driveway.

Aaron carries on working on the cam belt for another ten minutes, finally getting it out, packing it up and locking everything up properly, before washing himself off and spraying himself with lynx to get the honk of sweat and oil off his skin. He double checks that everything is secured, before he pulls on his woolen gloves, rolls himself another cig, and leaves for lunch.

* * *

It’s become a bit of a ritual of Robert’s now, driving out to the quarry after work. Moira lets him go with another nod, Ross claps him on the back and winks at him, Andy continues to blank him, Pete remains mostly indifferent to his presence, and Cain glares at him.

He changes out of his overalls into jeans, a t-shirt, a cardigan, and a dark green puffer jacket. He slides into the Skoda, ties the scarf around his neck, fits his hands in some woolen gloves, and checks his face in the mirror. His cheekbones and nose are flushed from the cold, his hair windswept, breath still visible even in the car. He sighs and closes it again, flicking the radio on distractedly to some indie channel, and starting up the engine, driving there without really concentrating on the destination; its muscle memory now.

When he pulls up, he sits for a moment, watching the burnt orange sunset, wetting his chapped lips with his tongue. Then he gets out, shutting the door behind him and hopping up onto the hood. He drops his hands into his pockets and hunches against the bitter wind, the sharp cut of the chill against his face, his eyes watering slightly.

He remembers what it had been like just months ago, sat beside Andy in the jeep in the same spot, trying to convince him not to kill himself. That broken feeling, the hot tears stinging his eyes, the way he had not been able to breathe until he knew his brother was safe. And then that moment, the moment where he hadn’t been able to see Aaron, the panic that had shot through him, his blood running cold, entire world stopping for a second. And the intense relief when he’d seen him, alive.

If there are tears in his eyes now, as he watches the sun growing lower in the sky, and the appearance of the moon among the black, he doesn’t pay them much heed.

* * *

“Look what the cat dragged in, he’s on the clock, mate, can’t sneak off for a quicky, soz," Ross’ voice doesn’t draw his attention so much as continue to be background noise.

Robert frowns to himself as he shovels another clump of manure from one heap to the other, sniffing as he stands up, wincing at the crack at the bottom of his spine. His breath catches in his throat when he notices Aaron approaching, that look on his face where he’s trying to appear as though this isn’t a big deal for him.

“He’d be lucky,” Aaron snorts as he gets closer, standing against the stable doors, “I need you to sign this insurance completion form. They’ve finished the work, but the solicitors want proof.”

“Alright,” Rob sighs, swallowing the lump in his throat, cursing himself for how fucking emotional this whole thing makes him, and pulling off his thick work gloves. Taking the form and pen from Aaron, he pressed it against the wall and signs quickly, refusing to let his hands shake as he does so.

“I’m in the pub later, mate, you can buy me a pint if you want,” Ross winks at him.

“Again, you’ll be lucky. Cheers,” Aaron says distractedly to Robert as he hands it back to him, “also, we’ve got a bulk order coming in tomorrow and they need all three shareholders there to sign off on it.”

“No problem, these lot can manage without me for one morning.”

“How will we ever cope?” Ross says tragically.

“One sec, the Skoda is playing up, you mind taking a look at her when I drive up tomorrow?”

“You sure you’re not imagining it, mate? Last time your fake car trouble ruined my life."

It stings that everything he says has an underlying bite of bitterness to it. Rob swallows a snarky retort, draws in a deep breath, and fakes a smile.

“It’s real. The engine is grumbling.”

“Octavias aint supposed to make any noise. Alright, whatever, I’ll pop it tomorrow and sort it out. Just don’t be fuckin late.”

“Yes,” Rob huffs as Aaron folds the document he just signed and walks away for real this time.

“Ouch; talk about unresolved issues.”

“Shut your mouth for once."

"Oh, I thought you'd like it wide open."

Robert ignores him once more, lifting the shovel again and getting on with it, unable to stop himself glancing back as Aaron gets back into his car and drives off.

* * *

“Well if it aint my knight in shining armour. You look like shit,” Adam greets as Rob pulls to a halt outside the porta cabins where a lorry is unloading a bunch of new parts, slapping their palms together.

“You can’t talk; married life is giving you a soft gut.”

“Ay, leave it out, you know how good your sister’s cooking is.”            

“I do, didn’t say I blame you.”

“Opposite with you, you’re shedding it all. You sure you’re doing okay, mate?”

“Fine, just less caviar, good for the scales.”

“Here,” Aaron interrupts, coming out from the cabins, handing him a clipboard as he nods at the guys unloading the stock, “front and back.”

Rob resists the reflex to make an innuendo out of that. And he tells himself it doesn’t hurt that just months ago he could have done, and they would have laughed about it, nudged each other, grinned from ear to ear. He tells himself he doesn’t miss how easy it used to be between them. But he catches a glimpse of the flicker of a twitch on Aaron’s lips, and he knows the moment isn’t one sided. He doesn’t know whether that makes it worse or not.

“Alright, you can fuck off now,” Aaron says, going to ask the movers something, taking the clipboard back.

Rob drops his hands in the pockets of his jacket, smiling quietly at that stupid bobble hat on Aaron’s head, making its return this year. Holy shit. It’s really been a year?

“I think you deserved that one, mate. You sure you can’t have a word with him?”

“Why, is there something wrong? He’s not spiralling again, is he?”

“Nah, he’s actually pretty happy. It’s just… it’s kinda like - he misses you, I can tell.”

“Adam, I ruined his life; he deserves better.”

“Wow, that almost sounded self-deprecating. You feeling alright?” he asks, chuckling as he presses his hand to Robert’s forehead and he bats him away.

“I mean it, he’s better off if I stay out of his life as much as I can. Let me know if there’s anything wrong though, we don’t want a repeat of last year.”

Aaron then hands the workmen the signed papers and comes back over, holding his hand out to Robert.

“I nearly forgot, s’ave a look at this rumbling engine then,” he says, ignoring Rob’s confused expression, and the recognition then dawning on his features. Rob places the keys in his palm and Aaron walks past him, popping the bonnet, moving the brace to keep it upright whilst he takes a look.

“It was doing it this morning again,” Rob says, he and Adam following him over a moment later.

“Straight away I can tell your suspension is a bit loose. The compression is causing your worn out spark plugs, its misfiring or not firing at all in the cylinders. She a second hander?”

“Yeah. Can you fix her easily?” Rob sighs.

“I can replace the spark plugs and tighten the suspension, but you’ll have to leave it with me today, you shouldn’t even be on the road with this problem. This passed MOT?”

“I wouldn’t be driving it if it didn’t. I know a few people, I’ll get them investigated, fucking idiots,” he huffs, taking out his phone and dialling a number.

“It’s not a long job, I’ve got some replacement plugs in the back”

“I’ll transfer some money for the labour later on – hey, Jase, how you getting on in Bristol, mate?”

Aaron rolls his eyes and meets Adam’s knowing eyes for a moment as someone on the other side of the line answers Robert.

“What?” Aaron snaps. Adam holds his hands up, amused and slightly judgy.

“I didn’t say anything, just… I hope you know what you’re doing here.”

“He can’t drive on the damn road with faulty fuckin spark plugs.”

“Awh look at you, all protective – ow!” he pouts when Aaron smacks him hard up the back of the head.

“Go help unload the parts."

He points at the workmen and Adam glares at him, but does as he’s told. Aaron swallows the frustration rising in his gut and forces himself to focus, telling himself this is not a protective instinct, that it’s just another job. He’s a mechanic; this is just what he does.

* * *

Towards the middle of October, Aaron takes up running again. Straight away he feels the relief it brings. He enjoys the heat on his skin, his panted breaths wisping from his lips unevenly as he pushes through the strain in the back of his legs, and listens to the sound of Radical Face singing in his ear.

It’s much colder this year, he can feel it, and he stops for a moment, breathing deeply, hands braced on his knees as the first snow of the season rolls in. It’s mixed intermittently with rain and sleet, but its snow all the same, and it puts a small smile on his lips.

There’s something comforting about the mix of vibrant oranges and browns everywhere as well. It helps him to stop thinking for an hour or two whilst the sun comes up in the morning.

He feels fit again too; his muscles are more solid, more durable. He can lift more, put more elbow grease into removal and installation.

The business is going well too. Cars fuck up the most in the autumn/winter time and therefore need more parts. Adam and Vic are getting sickeningly adorable as Christmas gets closer and they’re embarrassingly excited to ‘celebrate their first Christmas as a married couple’.

Aaron smiles to himself as he focuses on breathing better to avoid cramp, circling back to the village.

He’s happy for them, after the year they’ve had, but he can’t pretend it isn’t making him a little bitter. He’s not the romantic, cheesy, hearts and flowers type, but he can’t help feeling like it would be nice to have someone at this time of year. Someone that doesn’t kill people or lie or manipulate him or tie him to radiators.

Aaron snorts then, as he rounds the corner and runs slower alongside the main road back into the village; that’s really his life. Those things actually happened. In the last twelve months. To him. Honestly, can’t he ever have a normal year?

“She running better?” Aaron asks, slowing his run, stopping as he nears Rob getting shopping out of the boot of his car.

“A lot better. You did a slap up job, mate, thanks.”

“Just what I do. you get that place shut down?”

"Yeah, Jase pulled them up on it straight away; they sent six other people off with faulty parts too, one of them crashed it into a tree. No one was harmed, but they weren’t happy. Got their business licence revoked.”

Aaron struggles to keep a straight face, just looking Robert in the eye makes him feel like nothing ever happened. That they never killed Katie, that they didn’t devastate Andy’s life, that Chrissie never found out about the affair and he never shot Paddy. He just looks… so Robert-like. The Robert he knows anyway, or thought he knew; with his ridiculous blue eyes, narrow cheekbones, stupid perfect hair and trademark smirk, cocky as ever and scheming to get results. So normal. Like the ghost of a memory now.

“Give Jase my number if you want," Aaron knows its petty and a double edged sword, but he can't help himself, "y’know, business purposes and everything, never know when I might need his expertise.”

He watches that look shatter on Robert’s face for only a second, not wanting to commit it to memory, before nodding at him in goodbye, continuing in his jogging up the road, pushing away the pain and anger clogging in his throat.

 _Fuck_.

* * *

“You… want to do a Halloween festival? After the last community event was such a hit."

Chas tuts at him and fixes him with a reproachful look.

“Yes, I do. We all need a bit of a pick me up right now, and the kids’ll love it!”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea, I always liked Halloween too," Diane tells her softly, taking her hand across the table where they’re sat drinking tea.

“Same,” Vic pipes in from the sofa, her legs draped over Robert’s lap where they’re watching tv.

He’s been lingering around the pub like a bad smell lately, and Aaron doesn’t know whether the fact that he’s almost totally blanking him, is frustrating him, or making it easier. It’s just downright annoying, but it’s even more annoying that he can’t wedge between him and his newly reformed family bond with the Sugdens.

He _knows_ Robert, and he knows that at the root of it all, his malicious streak comes from being frightened of loneliness and isolation. At least if Rob is here hanging out with his step mum and sister, then he’s not becoming self-destructive or ruining any lives. At least not for the moment.

But it doesn’t mean that Aaron is thrilled to see him so fuckin frequently either. How is he supposed to get over the love of his life, when he’s always around drinking their coffee and eating their food? Aaron has half a mind to start turning up at _his_ house and nosing around in _his_ biscuit tin. No innuendo intended. Dammit.

“You’ll need volunteers, mind, but there won’t be a shortage of them, what with how much we need a boost of spirit”

“I’ll help out, when I’m not working," Vic offers.

“Anything I can do, too. I’ve got a whole list of contacts if you need decorations, music, tarpaulin, entertainment," Robert notes, tearing his eyes away from EastEnders to glance at them.

Aaron smirks as his mum grimaces and shoots him a private look of distaste. Diane smiles at him and nods.

“That’d be lovely, pet. See, love, it’s a wonderful idea.”

“Aaron, you’re on pumpkin duty.”

He groans and sulks for the rest of the week, but his mum doesn’t let up, and that weekend he’s sent on a pumpkin run, with Diane’s clueless suggestion that Robert accompany him for lifting help. Fuckin great. Just what he needs right now.

* * *

“It’s hilarious that she’s put you on pumpkin duty, honestly, doesn’t she know you can’t carve pumpkins for shit?”

“Yes, thank you,” Aaron says as they move to organise the next batch, trying to ignore the fact that Robert actually remembers him telling him that, “she’s fully aware, she just likes winding me up.”

“You wind her up too, I don’t know how you live with each other half the time.”

“Coffee, chocolate digestive biscuits, and a lot of anger management.”

“Sounds like a healthy domestic arrangement to me."

“You wouldn’t know a healthy domestic arrangement if it fucked you in the ass – oh wait, it actually did!” Aaron snarks and Robert sticks his tongue out at him petulantly, but he can see the amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“How many do we need again?”  

It starts snowing again at that point, slowly at first, but faster as they continue moving.

“50. She wants to light up the whole thing with candles inside of them. I have to carve 50 fuckin pumpkins.”

“It’s not that bad. Look, I’ll help you. We’ll get them all carved out and set up ready for the festival on Sunday evening.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Aaron raises an eyebrow as they lift the third batch into the van.

“We can be alone for a few hours without killing each other, christ."

“Leave your gun at home, and we have a deal.”

“I got rid of that, oh my god,” Rob insists, and Aaron laughs because if he doesn’t, he’ll have to analyse it, and he doesn’t want to analyse a crack about Robert shooting him, because just the other month, he actually nearly did.

* * *

Rob places a cup of coffee down beside Aaron where he’s sat on the floor with his hand inside a pumpkin tearing out it’s contents and putting it into a plastic bag. Aaron wipes his fingers on a tea towel he’s pre-prepared, and sips at the hot liquid, drawing in a deep breath, trying to convince himself that it’s ebbing away the tension building up between his muscles. He swallows a flicker of emotion at the fact that Robert still knows how he likes his coffee, and nods at him with reluctant gratitude. Rob sits opposite him again, cross-legged, getting back to work on his own pumpkin, which he’s carving.

That’s their decorum; Aaron empties, Robert carves faces into them, seeing as Aaron is so shit at it. Also he… might have an aversion to sharp blades since he inflicted the lasting scars on his stomach and palms. He told Robert that too once, but he doesn’t know if he remembers that as well.

“Thirty down, twenty to go.”

“Why do you look like you’re enjoying this so much? Has my mum been sneaking pills in your food again?”

“If your mum was putting anything in my food, it would be poison and I’d be six feet under by now,” Robert snorts, shoving the knife into the front of it and hacking slightly, careful to stay within the lines he’s drawn on it for reference, “besides, I am enjoying it.”

“Right, Halloween is your favourite holiday, I forgot how much of a giant fuckin nerd you are.”

“You take that Harry Styles poster off your bedroom wall yet?”

Aaron immediately scowls at him, but doesn’t answer, Rob laughing at him mildly and shaking his head, shoving the knife deeper where the gaps need to be bigger.

“What time did your mum say this thing starts?”

“Seven. We have four hours before set up though.”

“Ah, no problem,” Rob scrapes at the edges of his work to refine it, as though it’s some sort of high-brow masterpiece, “Diane is sorting out the candles, right?”

“They got here this morning. One hundred fuckin tea lights; I thought we were meant to be making people feel better, not bankrupting ourselves.”

“Don’t be a drama queen. But really, why are you so grumpy? Adam said you were doing better.”

“What you doing asking Adam about me?” Aaron frowns, continuing with the job at hand.

“Protecting my investment,” Robert says after a moment of looking very awkward and shifty. Aaron doesn’t feel even a little bit guilty about taking satisfaction from watching him squirm.

“Right, well its aint your business why I’m so grumpy, so keep your nose out."

“Fine, sorry for giving a shit.”

“Oh don’t pretend you do."

“I do. God forbid I actually care about what happens to you.”

“Where was your concern when you were pointing a gun at my head? Where was your concern when you were taking the piss out of my mental illness? When you were lying to me for months about what happened at the farm? When you were taking me for a mug and chucking me breadcrumbs and expecting me to be okay with it?”

“I’m sensing this is about more than pumpkins. Go on then, say what you need to say.”

“I don’t need to say anything, because you already know what you did to everyone. Look at you, it’s eating you up without me having to do anything. That’s why you’re here, right?” he says, glancing around them at the stupid fuckin pumpkins, “doing this for my mum, being around me all the time. You’re punishing yourself.”

“Aaron, I-”

“That’s what I used to do, you know? I used to see Hazel all the time, eat dinner with her, have a pint with her, talk to her. Because looking at her, knowing I’d taken her son away from her, it was a worse punishment than prison any day.”

“So what? So fucking what if its punishment? I deserve it, don’t I?”

“But what about _me_ , asshole? What about me? What if it hurts me too? What if having you hanging around here all the time hurts me just as much? You never fuckin consider that, do you? What about _me_?”

Rob is quiet again, for another minute or so, and all that can be heard is their breathing, and the muffled conversations from the front of the pub. Eventually, Robert swallows, grits his teeth, and lifts his head, nodding.

“You’re right. Do – do you want me to leave?”

“We need to finish these pumpkins."

“But… I mean, would you prefer it if I didn’t spend time around here anymore?”

“That’s – that aint what I meant, you need your family. You fucked up my life, but I don’t actually want to take your family away from you, believe it or not.”

“Then you’re a better person than I am.”

Aaron snorts, and his lips twitch slightly with bitter, exhausted amusement.

“Well I could have told you that ages ago. Now get carving.”

“You should, uh, get that sorted you know, your shoulders and back. Get a proper massage. I’ve got a couple of contacts in Leeds if you want their numbers.”

“Leave it out," Aaron rolls his eyes, flicking some pumpkin insides at him, which Robert pouts at, but continues doing his job nonetheless.

He sighs quietly and keeps his eyes down again. But there’s something different now. Less weight between them. Less pain. It’s not very much, but he can definitely feel it, and it makes it a lot easier to get the rest of the pumpkins finished and ready to move over to the fete-ground.

They spend the rest of the night in relative silence, but it’s alright, Aaron realises. It’s okay. For now, at least, he can breathe better.

* * *

“Rob?” Aaron frowns as he nears the Robert-shaped clump laying by the side of the road. Aaron is on his way up to the scrapyard, having decided to walk today. Of course he’d end up distracted by the unconscious body of his ex-boyfriend on the road side. Just his fuckin luck.

He breaks into a jog, panic shooting through him slightly as he crouches beside him. He’s freezing cold and it’s – shit it’s terrifying because he’s covered in blood, his face beaten to a pulp, breath laboured in escaping through his lips.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, rolling him over onto his back and shaking him slightly. His whole body is limp and Aaron can’t help the fear rising in his gut. 

But Rob’s alive, because he’s breathing, and Aaron grimaces at the stench of alcohol on his breath, almost urging with how stagnant it is. The bastard isn’t in serious danger. He’s just drunk and beaten up.

No doubt a pub fight in Hotton or someone from the village finally snapped and beat the crap out of him. He curses again and huffs, tugging Rob’s arms up and ducking under his waist, hoisting him over his shoulder where his arms dangle one side, his legs on the other. His arm wraps loosely around Rob’s knees, keeping them in place, and continues on his five minute walk up to the scrapyard. There’s a blanket and a pillow in the corner that Aaron rests on when he’s working late; he’ll put Rob on that so he can sleep it off.

He arrives and unlocks the door to the porta cabin, dropping Robert down on the floor, laying him out and putting all three portable heaters around him, turning them on. He contemplates grimly how he always manages to end up picking up Robert Sugden’s shit for him when he fucks up.

* * *

“Wasgonion?” Rob slurs as he sits upright abruptly about three hours later, wincing and coughing immediately in pain as it registers. He hunches over, winded and whimpering.

“You fucked up again."

Aaron puts the finishing touches to an email and sends it. Sighing, he stands up and holds a hand out to him.

“What did I do?” Rob chokes out. Aaron pulls him to his feet and helps him to Adam’s spinning chair. Sitting in his own, he moves it in front of Robert, the first aid kit already open and ready on the desk. He also hands him a glass of water and four ibuprofen.

“No idea, found you like this at the side of the road. Looks like someone smashed you good, mate,"Aaron replies as Rob downs both and squints through his swollen eye.

“I – I don’t remember. I think there was – yeah, there was definitely alcohol.”

“Fuckin yeah there was. You honk."

Aaron fills a bowl with hot water and sits down again, dipping cotton wool in it and starting on wiping the blood off of Rob’s face.

“Uggh, I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Tough shit. Aint you done more with worse?”

“I’ve got a punchable face, haven’t I?” Rob asks him grimly, sighing.

“Not so much a punchable face as a punchable personality, mate. Maybe if you were less of a prat, less people would knock the shit out of you on the regular.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. Uggh, I think my jugular is bruised. Who the bloody hell punches people in the throat these days?”

“Angry people who don’t like you.”

“Half the fucking village then."

“I thought you were doing better,” Aaron frowns, taking out the tube of SurgiSeal, “this will sting."

He pushes the skin together and applies the glue. Rob’s hand shoots out fast and grabs Aaron’s knee hard, a noise of anguish escaping through his lips, letting out a string of mildly coherent curse words.

"Breathe," Aaron tells him as he takes the dissolvable stitches and carefully places them over the wound. He does this for all the other deeper cuts on Rob’s face and hands, ignoring the tight grip on his leg the whole time, for sanity’s sake.

“You don’t get times when all you want to do is get ratassed and block everything out?”

“Yeah, everyone does, but you aint actually supposed to do it. What were you trying to block out anyways?”

“Take a wild guess,” Rob sighs, sitting back in his chair.

“Me? You were trying to block _me_ out? You – mate, you should have just come and talked to me or something, you don’t have to do this shit.”

“You, but other things too. Things you – you don’t, and can’t, know about.”

“Right, because that would be something close to actually being vulnerable in front of me, wouldn’t it? And we can’t have that now, can we?”

“It’s – look, it’s not like that. Its way more complicated and some of it doesn’t even have anything to do with you or Chrissie or my family. Some of it is just my own stuff."

“You do remember? You do remember who did this to you?”

“It’s not important, and not something you need to worry about, alright?”

Aaron stares at him for a few moments, watching his expression, waiting for a clue. But there is none. There never is. And once again, Aaron resigns himself to leaving a conversation with Robert with more questions than answers.

“Fine. Don’t worry about getting the stitches wet in the shower, they last a couple of weeks. Make sure you take painkillers before you drop out tonight, and with your breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yeah, actually, bit much for a scrapyard isn’t it? You have to sort out injuries like this often?”

“None of your business,” Aaron says, deciding two can play at this game, and packing it all up, pushing himself back behind the desk and locking it back in his top drawer. When he looks back at Robert, he’s smiling at him softly. So softly actually, that it catches in his throat and he has to conceal the way it pangs painfully in his chest.

"What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. Just – I miss my rough and tough greasemonkey sometimes. Is that allowed?”

“Bugger off before I call the paramedics in and make a biggie out of this.”

“You’re no fun,” Robert pouts, but lifts himself carefully out of the chair whilst Aaron calls him a taxi back to the village. Then Aaron rolls himself a cig and sits on the steps outside whilst Rob waits for it, putting most of his weight on the left side of his body and hugging his ribs with his good arm.

Aaron waves him off when it arrives, and smokes another cig, trying to calm himself down enough for proper coherent thought. When he can breathe again, he drinks a cup of coffee, works on a ford fiesta for a little while, and then locks up. He’s home by nine in time to fall asleep watching a friends boxset in bed.

* * *

“Your mum is – she’s making apple pies?”

“Yeah, but she’s refusing to go to fuckin Sainsburies and get normal apples. She wants apples from the orchard.”

“You sound so strange saying the word orchard. Funnily enough though, you’re not the first person to come to the farm with this request this week. A couple of people from Hotton travelled over for them.”

“Well if I had my way, I’d go buy a pack of granny smith’s, but Mum’s insisting.”

“And when Chas insists, Chas gets. I know. Come on then, get in.”

“I can’t believe you can drive a tractor. You’re an actual farm boy now.”

“I can’t believe you actually bought fingerless gloves,” Rob retorts as the engine roars to life and he starts them out of the farm courtyard and out through an entrance onto the fields, his arms literally aching just being outstretched and navigating the steering.

“They’re comfy and I can use my phone and have a fag properly when I’m wearing them. Why do you smell so fuckin bad right now, anyways?”

“You’d smell too, if you’d spent the morning shovelling horse shit and lifting 30 kilo bags of feed all day."

Rob lifts his armpit and nudges Aaron for extra measure, earning himself a scowl and an elbow to the ribs, although he manages to keep the tractor level as they approach the orchard Moira is growing specifically for the autumn.

“You can do all the bending and picking up,” Rob stretches as he turns the engine off, remaining seated whilst Aaron gets out with a carrier bag to start picking up the discarded apples around the tree, “I’m fucking knackered.”

“Don’t be such a pissbaby. I can lift an engine out of a car with my bare hands with no whining.”

“Well done, greasemonkey, but there are people who are meant for manual labour and people who just aren’t.”

“You’d have thought it would have made you less snobby," Aaron ties the bag shut and returns to his seat, Rob starting up the engine again and driving back.

“Never,” Rob replies, smirking as they pull back onto the farm “Moira charges a fiver for the drive and a fiver for the apples."

“Fine, fine."

Aaron slaps a tenner in Rob’s hand and moves to walk away immediately.

“Wait a sec, speedy, you gonna be in the pub later?” he calls, and Aaron turns around, but continues walking, shrugging at him.

“I _live_ in the pub, farmboy, of course I will.”

“I’ll buy you a pint then.”

Aaron just answers him by flipping him the bird, and Rob can’t help the small smile playing at his lips and the tingling in his chest and on the surface of his skin; it’s getting easier again. And he’s missed it so much, it’s like breathing in fresh air. Well, not actually fresh air because the farm stinks something awful, but he knows what he means.

* * *

He ignores Ross snickering yet again at his dark brown baggy boyfriend jumper as he tugs his gloves on after the day’s shift a week later, and checks his face in the wingmirror of his car out of habit.

His nose and cheeks are flushed with the cold and his hair is all windswept and looking slightly ginger in the sun. He scowls at the fact that he’s never really warm now autumn is fully settled in and wisping its glow through the air, making his breath constantly visible, and the aches in his over-worked muscles even worse.

“You coming for a pint, rookie?” 

“Nah, I’m exhausted.”

“Suit yourself, Roberta,” he winks, poking him in the belly before slapping his ass and leaving. Robert smirks, rolling his eyes and tutting, pouting at Ross’s rather wonderful behind for a moment before he shakes it off and gets into the car, turning the heating up to full. It doesn’t make much of a difference, as he drives out to the quarry just like every night, to watch the autumn sun set and feel the crunch of wet gravel and the bite of cold cutting his cheekbones.

This time though, there’s already a car there, and Rob feels a pang of anxiety in his gut when he draws closer. He knows that figure, he’ll know it anywhere, and the car too. He steps out of his own vehicle cautiously, shutting the engine off and nodding at Aaron, who is leant against the car parked beside it near the edge.

“What you doing here?” Aaron frowns, but his voice isn’t hostile and his demeanour seems, for once, relaxed.

“I come up here every night,” Robert sits on the bonnet of his Skoda and shoves his hands in the pockets of the jacket he’s wearing over the jumper. Aaron simply nods in reply and moves over, hopping up to sit beside him, mirroring his stature, staring out at the sun setting on the horizon.

“I’m tired all the time,” Aaron breathes, discernible in the air as it escapes his lips, voice cracked and quiet

“Snap. Seems to be a lot of that going around lately.”

“Yeah, well, we aint exactly had the most tame year, have we?”

“I think we knew it wasn’t going to be tame when we started this thing though. It’s just that neither of us expected it to be this exhausting.”

“My mum always used to tell me that love _is_ exhausting. Kinda seems like I didn’t have much hope from the beginning," Aaron takes the baccy tin from his pocket and starts rolling a cigarette

“Do you ever think we’re cursed living in this village? You ever think we were sort of doomed to crash and burn? Wait, was that insensitive after the literal helicopter crash?"

Aaron just lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

“Have you ever been anything but?”

“Well, I try. I was never really good at the whole tact thing.”

“Snap," Aaron tokes on the cigarette and inhales deeply, visibly relaxing further.

“Match made in hell,” Rob chuckles and Aaron rolls his eyes, nudging him lightly.

“Don’t be a drama queen. We were just two fucked up idiots who happened to fall into each other’s firing lines.”

“You mean like when I hired you to burgle my wife and you smashed up my car?”

“Or when I beat the shit out of you and you shot Paddy?”

“It – fuck, it wasn’t all that bad, was it?” Robert wets his chapped lips with the tip of his tongue and shivers slightly from the cold, squinting against the glare of the sun.

“Nah, there was some good. I don’t just fall for anyone.”

“Do – do you have this problem with all this stuff we know about each other? I know so much about you but I don't know what to do with it all."

“I was actually talking to Belle about that the other day. How you like your coffee, the shit you got yourself into before Chrissie, what cologne you wear, the fact that you’re a moron before nine in the morning.”

“The fact that you don’t like sharp things, that you can’t carve pumpkins, that you still have one of Jackson’s t-shirts in your bottom drawer, that you piss too much to be a normal human being, that-”

“Yeah, I get it, we know lots of shit about each other.”

“You know stuff that not even Chrissie knew, not Vic or Andy or Diane. Actually, you know stuff that no one else in the world knows.”

“I’m flattered."

Rob sees the softening of his expression nonetheless.

“I do miss you, you know?” Rob speaks a moment later.

“I know," Aaron swallows heavily and puts his cig out, "I miss you and all.”

“I know."

Aaron glances at him sideways, and rolls his eyes once more, tutting and bringing Rob’s head to rest in the crook of his neck. Rob closes his eyes against the wind and breathes in deeply, as though the air can’t possibly get deep enough in his lungs.

“Autumn, innit."

“I kind of like this season. Like… starting again.”

“You want to?” 

“Do _you_ want to?”

“I don’t know if we can. So much shit has gone down.”

“I reckon we can try."

“Maybe. We could just stay here for a bit, see what happens.”

“Sure,” Rob says, a small smile playing at his lips, “I’d like that.”

And for the first time in a long time, he's not lying.


End file.
